


Laying Him Off

by ridkey



Category: Five Nights at Freddy's
Genre: Betrayal, Blood and Torture, Broken Bones, Character Death, Child Murder, Gen, Gore, Graphic Description, Graphic Description of Corpses, Murder, Torture, Torture Porn, regretful killer, strong stomach recommended, suit stuffing
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2016-08-29
Updated: 2016-08-29
Packaged: 2018-08-11 17:41:11
Rating: Not Rated
Warnings: Major Character Death
Chapters: 1
Words: 2,258
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/7901782
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/ridkey/pseuds/ridkey
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>He'd given Mike the night off. Why, *why* did he have to come to work early? He liked the kid, too... </p><p>---</p><p>Paul the Purple Man, manager of the 90s Freddy Fazbear's location, brutally murders one of his favorite employees. Part of an AU between myself and TtotheCofA</p>
            </blockquote>





	Laying Him Off

**Author's Note:**

> My half of the currently untitled AU owned/played by TtotheCofA, fazbear-security on Tumblr. You can read her intense take on this scene from Mike's POV here: http://archiveofourown.org/works/7873867/chapters/18048625

The blood rushed from Paul’s face. He dropped the skinny arm, and the body fell to the floor.

“Schmidt…?”

He’d told the boy not to come in tonight. What had he said, they were doing maintenance on the bots and didn’t need him? A lie, like everything else, and one he should’ve known Mike would see through.

Paul shook his head. He shouldn’t never given in to temptation.

“Kid… Mike…” He stepped forward, stepped carelessly through the blood puddling from the tiny boy’s head. “This isn’t what it-” Paul’s words died in his mouth. Mike was smart. He couldn’t fool this one.

“I’m sorry, kid.” Paul said. “I didn’t know they were yours.” But that was a lie. A callous, open one. How could he have not known who these children were? Mike had introduced them.

“You…” He stepped closer. Mike hadn’t moved. “Mike, listen, you have to understand. Those kids – those damn animatronics -” Paul slammed his fist the wall. “Those fuckers killed my best friend, Mike! They murdered him!” He staggered closer. Schmidt’s eyes were wide. Paul could see the sweat forming on the guard’s face as he approached. “I have to get back at them. I have to. This is the only way, Mike. These things don’t understand love or conversation, they just understand death! So I…”

Paul stopped. He had Mike half-pinned against the door to the backstage. The guard’s breath rushed over the skin of Paul’s shirt, fast and hot. There was something, Paul thought, that he’d forgotten.

“One of your siblings is a cop, isn’t she?”

Mike stiffed. His eyes widened. He wasn’t fast enough to get through the door. Paul grabbed Mike by the shoulder and slammed him into the mess behind him. The security guard landed face first into his youngest sister’s hair.

Without turning around, Paul locked the door.

The young man flailed around in the blood. Looked like Mike couldn’t get away from his dead sister fast enough. He pushed away from the corpse. Lost his balance. Tried to catch it, landing on his little brother’s arm. Mike screamed. His hand touched exposed bone, hamburger flesh. Paul followed Mike’s eyes from body to body. Everywhere the guard looked was another loved one. God, Paul had forgotten how addicting this kind of suffering was.

Paul bent down and picked up his weapon of choice. The heavy metal rod was still warm from his first round.

“Do you believe in God, Mike?”

Mike reeled, torso jerking to face Paul. His lips moved but Paul tuned the words out. He’d heard it all before.

“I know a lot of people do.” Paul swung the rod as he stepped through the blood. “Maybe it gives them comfort, to think someone’s looking out for them.” Mike pushed himself back. He touched Lynn’s body and gasped, snapping his hand to his chest. Paul wasn’t listening. “Me, it never did help. I like to think I’m living proof there’s nothing waiting for us on the other side. After all-”

He boot connected with Mike’s chin.

“Something like me doesn’t work with some divine blueprint.”

Mike writhed on the floor. Blood and plasma soaked through his uniform, smearing over the flesh on his face and arms. Paul shook his head, and smiled.

“And you don’t even know what I mean by that, do you?”

No one did. No one but Cam did.

Paul grit his teeth.

“Really, kid,” Paul stepped over Mike. “I’m doing you a favor.” He nudged Mike with his foot, forcing the guard onto his stomach. “You think those animatronics would be kinder than me?” He pushed one of Mike’s legs away from the other, then planted his hand on Mike’s lower back. “Well… they probably would. But let me tell you something, son.” He shifted his grip on the rod. “What I’m going to do to you hurts a lot less than getting stuffed into a suit.”

He brought the rod down, end first, on Mike’s ankle.

Mike screamed.

The manager put his entire weight into breaking Mike’s bones. The right leg first, working his way up as far as he could manage it, then the left. What bones he couldn’t break he tried to anyway. Mike had a wonderful voice. His screams echoed through the backstage, but never left it. Paul was the only one who could enjoy them, and he was okay with that.

By the time he finished with the legs, Mike was sobbing. His mouth moved, pleading, pleading, but Paul didn’t care. There wasn’t a damn thing Mike could say that Paul would give a shit about. He had other things to focus on.

“You’re a pretty strong guy, Mike.” Paul removed his foot from Mike’s back. “A lot of other people would’ve passed out by now. Least I hope they would.”

“But I’m glad you’re still awake.” Paul looked at Mike’s arms. “Be a shame for you to miss this.”

He focused on Mike’s right hand. Put the rod over it. Pushed down. The crunch echoed through the rod into Paul’s arms.

Mike fought back. Tried to. It was an instinct, to protect one arm with the other. Paul pinned the arm down with his foot and kept to his task. The bones crunched. Flesh went soft, and darkened like rotting fruit.

Mike wept.

When he moved on to the second arm, Mike didn’t try to fight back. He screamed, and then lost his voice. Bless his heart, he still tried to scream.

People like Mike were fun to have around. It was a shame he had to put the kid down. If Mike hadn’t come to work, he’d still be walking the earth come sunrise. But Paul couldn’t afford any risks.

His limb work completed, Paul stepped back. Mike lay moaning and crying on the floor. He was still awake – what a strong boy – but wouldn’t be for long. He could bleed out internally before Paul finished the job himself.

No way would he let that happen.

“Come on you.” Paul reached down and wrapped his arms around Mike’s torso. “It’s almost over.”

The guard was in too much pain to fight back. He was bigger than Paul was used to, and heavier, too.  Mike managed one last scream of pain as Paul forced him onto the table. His chest heaved, air struggling into his lungs. Mike looked at Paul. Could he see him through the blood and tears? Paul shook his head.

“It’s gonna be okay son.” Paul bent down and kissed Mike’s forehead, like a father would. “It’s all going to be over soon, and you’re going to be with them, okay? I hope to fucking god you’re gonna be with them.” His grip on the rod tightened. “I hope to god you don’t come back too.”

Paul pulled away and walked to the shelves that lined the walls of the room. Mike watched as he shifted the parts around. The older man pretended to search for what he was looking for, leaving the boy in suspense. When he felt Mike’s attention shift back to escaping, Paul picked up the heavy Freddy torso and turned around.

Mike paled. The security guard shook his head as Paul approached with the Freddy suit part. Paul set the torso down next to Mike. Speech had left him. Mike opened his mouth, moved his lips, but not even gasps came out.

He’s getting close, Paul thought as he went for the Freddy head. There wasn’t much time left.

The torso attached like a backwards jacket, with latches on the back and shoulders. It snapped onto endoskeletons without any trouble, but humans, that took more force. Paul was strong and fit for a forty year old man, but he had his limits. Pushing those rods into flesh and bone was not something he was capable of.

But that didn’t mean it was impossible.

Paul set the head down next to Mike’s, block his view of the torso. As Mike shuddered, Paul laid the torso on it’s front. The room seemed so quiet now that Mike had stopped screaming. The click of the latches seemed like screams in their own right. Paul glanced back at Mike. He wasn’t a very big guy, that Mr. Schmidt, but he would slide into the suit without any trouble.

“Easy, Mike,” Paul whispered as he pulled the head away. “We’re almost done. You’ll be dead before your eyes pop out of the mask.”

Mike whined, eyes closing. Paul shook his head.

“You would’ve been suffering for hours if they’d caught you.” There were clasps on the Freddy head too. Paul undid them. “It feels that way, at least.” The old man looked at the table through the eyes of the mask. “It sure did with me.”

Mike sobbed. Paul frowned at him.

“I hate to see you this way,” he lied. “I’m sorry.” Tears pricked at his eyes. Hell, not now. “I really am sorry.” Mike was a good kid. He never deserved this job. He deserved a better life than…

Paul closed his eyes and willed the tears, the pain, away. There was time for that later (never). He had a job to do.

“Come on.” Paul reached for Mike. “Let’s get this over with.”

Mike tried to scream. He couldn’t move his arms to push Paul away as he was picked up. Paul forced himself to be gentle. Did Mike really need to suffer more? Of course not.

He rolled Mike over in his arms so his stomach was facing the table. Mike was shaking. Broken limbs twitched against Paul’s body.

“Easy,” Paul mumbled to himself as he moved Mike’s stomach over the torso. Mike’s chest scraped the tips of the rods with every deep inhale. The last pure inhales, Paul thought, this kid will ever get.

He hoped.

“Alright Mike,” He said. Mike’s eyes were screwed shut, so he couldn’t see the eyeless head waiting for him. “I’m going to let go now.” Paul smiled. “You’re pretty heavy for your age. Your mom took good care of you.”

Paul let go.

One would think that metal impaling flesh would be loud and gruesome. Wet pops, slick tears, something medieval. But Mike’s body muffled all of it. Paul watched, and listened as he sunk into the suit. The only thing he heard was Mike breathing like he was underwater.

It took longer than Mike probably hoped. The guard had plenty of time to think as the suit buried into him. Time to think, and time to feel. The crossbeams hit the stomach and innards first. The fluid spilled onto the table, and Paul breathed the rank stench in. The suit had to fight through the ribs to get to the lungs and heart, but he knew when one had made it in when Mike’s breathing turned wet. The head cut through the shaved cheeks. The metal split the flesh apart, exposing his teeth. The skull was harder to get through. Would he have to help that part along? Maybe Mike would bleed out before that happened. Exposing the teeth and eyes was the most painful part of being suited.

Paul had personal experience with that.

Mike’s limbs twitched. The veins in his arms flexed against the surface of Mike’s skin. Paul’s stomach turned. This was taking too long. Would he have to help any of this along? He wouldn’t have the strength. Not with a night guard. It’d be like killing Cam.

He was a coward.

Paul stood by and watched Mike’s arms until the veins stopped pulsing. He stepped forward. Blood drained from the suit onto the floor. It would dye everything it touched, himself included.

Paul touched Mike’s arm with two fingers. He could still feel Mike’s pulse, weak and slow.

He stood there, eyes closed, until it disappeared.

That was when he broke down.

He liked Mike. He liked that son of a bitch. He liked the twitchy, interactive kid. He liked talking to him. Liked seeing him waiting for the day shift at the end of his shift. Liked seeing him alive.

Why did you come here? Paul thought. I told you to stay away. Why didn’t you listen? _Why didn’t you listen?_

It felt like he cried for longer than Mike took to die. It hadn’t. The clock on the wall said only five minutes had passed. Paul straightened his shoulders and the world spun around him. Had it really not been that long? Had he really been alive only five minutes ago?

This one was going to stick with him. Until the day he finally kicked the bucket forever, he’d remember the murder of Mike Schmidt.

Nobody else would.

Paul stepped over the children’s bodies. They’d taken too long. He needed to dispose of them. But Mike, he was fresh. He needed to be watched. His personal rule: keep an eye on the dead for thirty minutes, just in case.

There was a chair among the storage items. Paul set it up in front of the door and sat down. He leaned forward and rested his chin on his hands.

He shouldn’t be hoping for this. After all he’d said and done to Mike, he shouldn’t have any hope. It’d be a tragedy, for Paul, if Mike came back.

But someone else had to be able to do. Someone else had to be able to…

Don’t think about it, Paul thought. There too many other things he needed to think about tonight.

Paul closed his eyes and waited for Mike Schmidt to come back from the dead.


End file.
